


Breaking Patterns

by kisssanitygoodbye



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:32:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisssanitygoodbye/pseuds/kisssanitygoodbye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s been here the last three Saturdays, and I have never seen him wear trousers that don’t look like they rather belong in a bin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Patterns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Millijana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millijana/gifts).



I notice him first, the tall bloke with the ponytail and torn jeans. He’s been here the last three Saturdays, and I have never seen him wear trousers that don’t look like they rather belong in a bin. Sentimental value, perhaps.

It takes him a few moments to spot me in the back, and I take my headphones off as soon as he does. I don’t want to call it a ritual yet, but we’re definitely getting there.

“Fancy seeing you here,” I say when he puts his laundry basket on the empty seat next to me and starts filling one of the washing machines.

He snorts, but there’s a smile on his face when he turns to look at me. It’s small, tired, but everything about him is, right down to the shadows under his eyes, so I don’t take it personally.

I watch him as he takes his wallet out of his back pocket and rummages around for coins, and as soon as I hear him sigh I’m prepared for what he says next. He’s a lot more reliable than he looks.

“I’m sorry mate, but could you help me out?” It’s endearing how uncomfortable he seems, and I force the laugh that’s trying to escape me back down my throat.

“How much do you need?”

“A quid? Maybe one fifty?” It’s what he always says, as if the fifty pence would make all the difference.

I drop the coins into his outstretched hand and he thanks me before feeding the machine with them.

We sit in companionable silence, with him staring at the ceiling and me staring at him, another pattern we have developed over the weeks. If he notices, he doesn’t show it.

I’m done before he is, but leaving without another word suddenly seems wrong, so I turn back around after a few steps.

“Hey, uh…”

“Andy.” He stares at me, surprised. I just broke our pattern, after all.

I nod. “Frankie. You owe me a few quid by now, and—”

“I know! I’m so sorry. I’ll pay you back, of course. Usually I’m not that much of a mess.”

I can’t quite believe that, but I smile anyway. “How about coffee someday? Your treat.”

He scratches the back of his neck, a loose strand of hair falling into his face. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Good. See you next week.”

And then I leave, throwing a last glance at the building as I cross the street, hands tight around the laundry basket and unable to keep the corners of my mouth from lifting into a small grin.

He’ll be there next Saturday, and so will I.


End file.
